


Firsts

by mayachain



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Afterlife, Friendship, M/M, Post-Canon, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-07-24
Updated: 2007-07-24
Packaged: 2017-10-05 12:17:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/41654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mayachain/pseuds/mayachain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Severus Snape, waking up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Firsts

  


* * *

True to his luck and possibly due to some inbuilt instinct in the other, it is Black who spots him first. The first sounds he hears after waking up in the Afterlife are a huff and a pained "Oh, _no_."

He almost cringes where he stands, just a few feet away from them, but the second thing he hears is the sound of that sleek bastard being slapped or shoved, and so immediately after that it still almost counts as _one_ sound, running feet. He barely has time to glimpse a swish of red, and it is Lily who is running toward him, Lily who is throwing her arms around him, and the first sensation he feels after waking up in the Afterlife is being enveloped in a tight, tight hug.

The second sensation is an unexpectedly companionable clap on his shoulder. The third sensation is Lily pulling away, but just a little; she is still standing right in his space, barely an inch away from him. The first thing he sees when he looks up is a serious gaze from behind a pair of glasses and a respectful nod, the third sound reaching his ears the second words, "Thank you."

Lily glances at her husband and smiles, then she grips her childhood friend's arms and yanks him hard, hard against her again.

If this is the Afterlife, it comes close to his Muggle Grandmother's description of Heaven. He can smell Lily's hair, and it's in his nose, tickling him. He can feel Potter standing beside them, hear him breathing, but there's no jealousy there now, not in either of them. He can hear impatient foot-tapping from a few feet behind them, but it can be ignored, will always be ignored from now on. There's only one sensation that could possibly persuade him to move from where he stands, the woman whose eyes were the last thing he saw in life in his arms.

Someone else is gazing at him.

The first thing he consciously does - and no, approaching them doesn't count, it's not like he had any control over where he woke up, and no way could he have been expected to control his feet at that point - the first thing he consciously does after waking up in the Afterlife is gently taking half a step away from a beautiful young woman. The second thing he does is look over her shoulder, past her husband, past the black-haired man doing his best imitation of Rumpelstiltskin. The third thing he does is meet Remus Lupin's eyes, vaguely aware of a soft, calm, brilliant smile directed at him.

The third voice he hears in this unearthly place is full of relief. "We made it."

The fourth voice he hears is his own. "We're dead, you dimwit."

The sixth sensation he feels is the full impact of a grin and a shrug. "Who cares?"

The last thing he feels before ceasing the mechanical, chronological cataloguing of Afterlife experiences is the unfamiliar sensation of a smile being formed by his lips.

He knows beyond doubt that back in the land of the living, Minerva's Order and that Longbottom boy's Army and yes, okay, the Potter boy have won. Not that he could do anything about it from here if they hadn't , but at least he does not have to worry about them.

He is, at last, where he belongs.

Who cares indeed?  


* * *


End file.
